from Zakariya’s My Invisible Friend in our march Issue:
"I placed my right ear against the trunk of the bitter orange tree, but I didn’t hear its heart throb and beat. And I said to myself that the orange tree was asleep, and it was surely very different from us, because when the tree slept, its heart slept as well.
My tree is asleep.”
Under the Sign of Anaximander from our March Issue:
“With God dead, His attributes have been hacked into pieces and distributed among us in this carnage of existence. Performance: media stars. Power: bankers. Being in itself: Art. Where among these would you say that you fit?”
I pretended to be buried in deepest thought.
“In Art, maybe?”
They burst into laughter. “I told you so. Another total waste.”